"When Greek meets Greek, then comes the tug of war."
When Jew meets Jew, they want each other's gore.
We were going down the river from Baton Rouge at one time, and I
had an old fellow with me they called "Jew Mose." There was a
young Jew from Vidalia on board, and Mose got him into a game of
euchre. We had not played long until the young Jew said, "I have
got a good poker hand." Mose spoke up and said, "My hand is worth
ten dollars." Then the young one put up his money, and as Mose
had nothing, he backed out. I saw Vidalia had some nerve and money,
so on my deal I ran up two hands, giving the young one four kings
and the old one four aces. Mose said, "I have a poker hand."
Vidalia said, "My hand is worth twenty-five dollars," and he put
up. I tipped my hand to him, and raised it $100, at the same time
giving Mose the office not to raise, as I thought it was all the
fellow would stand. They both called; we showed down, and Mose
had won the money. He made a reach for it, when Vidalia made a
grab, but Mose was too quick for him. Then the young one jumped
up and said to Mose, "You are a Jew and I'm a Jew, and you shan't
have my money." Mose would not give up, so at it they went. They
hit, bit, scratched, gouged, and pulled hair, until they were
rolling around in each other's gore. Everybody came running to
see what had broken loose, and it was ducks to see those two fellows
fight. Neither would give up, and it is no telling how long the
circus tumbling would have kept up, if the officers of the boat
had not separated them. After the fight the cabin looked as if we
had been fighting a half-dozen Newfoundland dogs from the amount
of blood and black hair that was on the floor. The young one told
Mose if he ever came to Vidalia he would lick him, so we supposed
from that remark that he did not feel satisfied with the result.
Poor old Mose did not live long enough to visit Vidalia so the
young one could make his word good for he went up to Chicago, and
soon after died.